


Symbiotic

by Shinybug



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 01:05:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12716613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinybug/pseuds/Shinybug
Summary: Danny’s lathering his arms when he feels the air pressure change in the bathroom, and then Steve is behind him, right behind him in the stall, and Steve’s hand is stealing the soap from Danny’s and Danny just lets him, because of course he does. It’s Steve’s soap after all, and Steve’s shower, and Danny just sort of goes unfocused for a minute, staring at the tiles.





	Symbiotic

**Author's Note:**

> Set vaguely whenever, no spoilers for any particular event or season.

Sym·bi·ot·ic  
 _adjective: denoting a mutually beneficial relationship between different people or groups living in close proximity_

“I’m using your shower,” Danny announces as he follows Steve through the front door. Steve is already heading for the kitchen, and there's a visible line of tension like a steel rod in his shoulders. Danny can feel his skin starting to tingle with that salt-dry itch that drives him crazy and confirms his dislike of the ocean every time he feels it.

“Towels in the hall closet,” Steve calls from the kitchen, and Danny hears the faint snap and hiss of a beer bottle being opened. His throat feels raw from swallowing seawater, and that beer sounds like heaven, but his priority is still the shower. The sand in his hair will not wait. 

“I know,” Danny mutters, making a sort of vague gesture with his hands as he climbs the stairs, because yes, he knows the towels are in the hall closet, they’ve always been in the hall closet.

He sheds sand all over the tile floor as he peels off the damp layers of ripped clothing that stick uncomfortably and scrape over his skin. He hesitates and then drops everything in the bathroom sink, for lack of a better idea. Sand crunches under his feet as he steps into the shower, and the warm spray of nice, clean, civilized tap water is such a relief that he sighs deeply and just hangs his head under the torrent for a while.

Steve needs a shower too, Danny knows, but he can’t quite bring himself to rinse efficiently and save the hot water. Sand looks so soft, at a glance, but it’s damn hard when you’re slammed into it and forced to wrestle in the pounding surf with a strung out night club bouncer who’s got a domestic violence problem and an ex-girlfriend on life support in the hospital.

Honestly, he’s suffered worse by miles, but tonight he feels like he’s been run over by an angry snow plow, and right now Steve’s shower is better even than almost anything Danny can think of. 

Danny’s lathering his arms when he feels the air pressure change in the bathroom, and then Steve is behind him, right behind him in the stall, and Steve’s hand is stealing the soap from Danny’s and Danny just lets him, because of course he does. It’s Steve’s soap after all, and Steve’s shower, and Danny just sort of goes unfocused for a minute, staring at the tiles.

“Hey,” Steve says, and Danny glances over his shoulder at Steve, who’s got this sort of half-smile on his face, and his eyes are dark, like deep water. “Hey yourself,” Danny replies automatically.

Steve lathers up his hands and then puts the soap back in Danny’s limp ones, and washes himself with typical efficiency. Danny blinks a few times and turns back to the wall, looking at the soap in his hand but thinking about Steve, inches away. After a moment he continues to wash, and despite the unprecedented behavior going on in this shower he feels surprisingly normal.

Steve steps into the spray to rinse himself, nudging Danny to the side with his whole body. Danny watches Steve’s hair go dark and slick, watches soap slide away down his abdomen. Steve is still watching him with those unfathomable eyes through the spray of water.

This feels like something, Danny thinks. This _is_ something.

Danny stands there until Steve looks like he’s finished, and then hands the soap back to him and turns away again, and waits. He senses the heat from Steve’s body all down his back and his skin tingles like it’s still salt-dry and crying out for something.

Steve’s hands curl around Danny’s shoulders, slick and slippery, and the bar of soap is gone. The pads of Steve’s fingertips slide up into Danny’s hair at the nape of his neck and he tilts his head back, leaning helplessly into the touch. Steve’s fingers drift down over Danny’s shoulder blades, awakening a blossom of sand-burn that Danny had been unaware of, and Danny hisses and shivers. Contrarily his dick stirs at the pain, and he takes a long, deep breath.

The water is still falling over them, and Danny closes his eyes against the sting. Steve’s hands are following the line of his lowest ribs, coming around to rest on his belly, his chest. Steve’s mouth presses mutely against Danny’s temple, and for long moments they just breathe together.

Danny shifts backward by slow inches until he feels Steve settle hard and thick against the small of his back. Steve’s breath shudders out against Danny’s cheek. It only takes Danny turning his head slightly, Steve’s lips grazing Danny’s unshaven stubble, and then Steve is covering Danny’s mouth with his own and they’re kissing deeply, skin wet and tongues slipping together, as though they’ve done this a thousand times, instead of never.

Danny breaks away to breathe and Steve chases him, saying, “Danny, Danny,” like it’s the only word he knows and it means everything he wants to say anyway. Steve grinds hard against Danny’s hip and his hands are grasping now, firm and desperate. Danny gets away long enough to finally turn around and look Steve in the face. Whatever was in Steve’s eyes has transmuted into something both fond and full of intense longing, and it’s a look Danny has seen so many times but never realized what it meant.

“What,” Steve pants quietly into the space between them when Danny lifts a hand to touch Steve’s jaw.

“What is this face?” Danny asks, smoothing his hands down Steve’s throat, his collarbones, realizing he can touch, that he’s allowed.

Steve huffs a laugh, looking away and then back. “I don’t know, Danny, I can’t see my face.”

“Is this your ‘I love you’ face?” Danny touches the lines beside Steve’s eyes, carved in by laughter and stress, thinking of all the times he’s seen this face bloodied and beaten and sweaty and smiling and all the times he couldn’t touch it and now he can.

“Probably,” Steve replies with a crooked grin, his cockiness belied by the way Danny can actually see Steve's heartbeat pounding in his throat, and the way his chest is still heaving. 

Danny grips the back of Steve's neck and hauls him down into another kiss, and he can feel the tension in Steve's body all along the length of his own everywhere their skin slides together. 

“Probably?” Danny repeats against Steve's lips, laughing and also irritated, which is nothing new at all. “Is that all I get?” 

Steve crowds him up against the tile wall and holds him there while he presses his teeth into Danny's throat and tastes him in a long, slow lick. “What about you, is that your ‘I love you’ face?”

“If it looks extremely annoyed and really fucking turned on, then yes, that's my ‘I love you’ face, you putz,” Danny mutters as he hitches up one thigh beside Steve's, enough to get some leverage to thrust against him. 

Steve groans like he's been shot and drops his forehead against Danny's. He looks overwhelmed, like he isn't sure what he wants to do next, so Danny wraps his hand around Steve's dick and tightens, tugging him as close as he can come and letting Steve pump into the grip. 

“Did you have a plan here, babe?” 

“You know me,” Steve whispers. His fingers are cutting into Danny's hips and Danny loves it, wants him to leave bruises. 

“I do know you, that's why I ask.”

“Just want you, Danny,” Steve says, pressing him for another kiss, biting at Danny's lips like if he can just catch and hang on, Danny won't be able to get away. 

Danny stills his hand and Steve whines low in his throat. “All of a sudden?” 

Steve ripples with a long shudder and grows quiet against him. He shakes his head once. 

“Christ, it's like getting blood from a stone with you, babe,” Danny sighs. 

“Danny.” 

“Steven,” he answers, rubbing his thumb over the head of Steve's dick and finding it slick with more than water. Steve's eyes are so dark, his eyelashes wet.

“Do I really need to say it?” Steve's voice is rough and wrecked. 

Danny considers for a moment, then tilts his head back. “No, I guess you don't.”

But now Steve looks mulish and frustrated, and Danny twists his wrist just to see the heat flare in Steve's eyes again. His own dick is throbbing where it rests against Steve’s hip but he likes it that way, he wants to feel this familiar unfulfilled burn that he's always felt around Steve, this natural tension that drives him to argue and bait him and feed that reciprocal escalation that's been building for years. 

“I love you,” Steve blurts in a rush, “I've loved you for years, Danny, and you're always here, but then he held you under the water back there and I couldn't run fast enough, I couldn't, and I thought what if you weren't here anymore, if you were gone, but then you were here again in my house, in my room, and I - -”

“Okay shut up, shut up,” Danny says, letting go of Steve's dick in order to haul him into a tight embrace. Steve takes a deep breath and presses a kiss to Danny's neck. 

“Now you want me to shut up? Make up your mind,” he mutters against Danny's skin, but Danny can hear his smile and Danny wants to feel his teeth again. 

“You're such a goof, Steven, I swear. I said you don't need to tell me, I already know.”

“Jesus, you drive me crazy, Danny. You make me so crazy.” 

“I know, I really do,” Danny agrees, and he shuts off the water because they're both shivering under the spray, gone cold. “Do you want me to drive you crazy some more?” 

Steve grins with relief and yanks him out of the shower. He drags Danny to his bed and shoves him down on it without ceremony, and Danny would be annoyed at the manhandling except for how it actually really turns him on, and always has. It's all he can do just to keep breathing anyway, when Steve crawls up between his legs and licks the water from his thighs. 

“You've, uh,” he tries to say but has to stop to clear his throat. “You’ve done this before, right?”

The gaze Steve gives him when he looks up from swallowing Danny down to the root is enough to make Danny see stars, to say nothing of the sensation his dick is receiving. A few minutes or years later Steve leans back and replies in a rough voice, “Yeah, Danny, I've done this before. I've just never done it with you.” His lips are red and wet, and he licks them slowly.   
“Well it was a fair question until you did...that,” he elaborates, gesturing at his bobbing dick, which feels harder than it’s possibly ever been before.

“Jesus, Danny, have you done this before? If you can’t even call a blow job by its name how are you going to ask me to fuck you later?”

“Shit, Steve,” he bites out, grabbing his dick to stop the wild throb at the idea. “Of course I’ve done it, we’ve both done it, okay, we’re both excessively jaded in our sexual experience. And who said you’d be fucking me, anyway? When did we make that unilateral decision?”

“Well,” Steve said slowly, crawling up his body to brace his forearms on either side of Danny’s head. “I will be, though.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s beside the point, you caveman.” Danny reaches up and grabs Steve’s neck. “Anyway I thought I was supposed to be driving you crazy right now, not the other way around.”

“Danny, you are driving me crazy. Every minute I know you.”

It was probably meant to sound sarcastic, likely there should have been a drawl to Steve’s voice and a roll of his eyes, but it comes out whispered soft, just a murmur of sound. Danny pulls until Steve comes down and covers him with his weight, and kisses him while they find the places their bodies fit together best, limbs tangled and gripping.

“I know what you feel, and you know what I need,” Danny comments as Steve ducks down to bite Danny’s collarbone. “We have a symbiotic relationship, babe.”

Steve doesn’t need to be told that Danny likes the biting and the bossiness, and Danny doesn’t need to be told that for all his bravado Steve has never felt more vulnerable and powerful at the same time.

“Shut up, Danno,” Steve says as he scrapes his teeth over Danny’s nipple. “If you’re still using words like ‘symbiotic’ then I’m doing something wrong.”

“Don’t, for the love of god, call me ‘Danno’ in bed. And fuck, do that again.”

Steve sucks sharply at Danny’s nipple and swirls his tongue around the salt-and-pepper hair surrounding it, and Danny bucks up hard against him, arching back.

“Shit, shit, get up here,” Danny mutters, pulling on whatever part of Steve he can get his hands on. “I can't wait for anything else.” Steve looms over him and fits their dicks together, and Danny grinds up roughly until Steve helps him find a surging rhythm. 

“Steve,” he says, anchoring himself on Steve's mouth, opening himself up to the idea of finally letting go after years of enjoying the escalation. He grips Steve's shoulders as hard as he himself wants to be held, and Steve answers him with a biting kiss that isn't careful at all, that vibrates with need, and Danny feels like laughing even as colors explode behind his eyelids and he pulses between their bodies. 

Steve groans and goes still, flooding new warmth over Danny's belly, and Danny grins as he lies there under Steve's full weight. He can feel bruises forming on his hips and it's getting hard to breathe, but he loves it. 

“I love you, you're such a lunatic but I fucking love you,” Danny says, and Steve rolls off to the side to smirk at him. There's a warm, hazy look in his eyes, and his fingers are tracing Danny's ribs, like he can't stop touching even now. 

“I'm only a lunatic because of you, Danny.”

Danny makes a rude noise and flips him off. “You've been a lunatic from the first moment I met you, so don't put this on me.” 

“I wanted you then too, from that first day. You're just proving my point. I was perfectly rational before I met you.” 

“I find that so hard to believe, babe, you have no idea.” 

“Are we good here, Danny?” He looks like he's holding his breath and trying not to let on that he's still unsure, and Danny rolls his eyes. 

“I'd say we're fucking fantastic, here, and if you give me a few minutes and another shower we'll be fucking fantastic again.” 

“I meant--” 

“I know what you meant.” He keeps his gaze steady until he sees Steve relax, and Danny loves his stupid face so much he feels almost giddy with it. 

Danny suddenly feels a ridiculous sense of misplaced gratitude towards the goon who tried to drown him in the surf tonight. He rolls over and presses Steve back into the pillows, kissing him hard enough to hurt. Steve opens up for him and lets Danny lick into mouth, and Danny tastes himself and Steve and a hint of saltwater, though the last he knows is likely his imagination. He hates the sea, but he can learn to live beside it. It gave him Steve.


End file.
